Just Because
by Abigail.B
Summary: Because everyone loves a good damsel in distress. Written in EPOV, but much more centered on Bella's journey. "She's so young but I can't even feel guilty because none of this feels wrong and she needs help and right now, I'm her answer." Possessiveward!
1. Noticed

**Because everyone wants to be noticed. **

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EPOV

I'm walking down the street and my stomach grumbles. I'm headed over to my mom's later though so I don't want to spoil my appetite.

Still, my hunger doesn't abate with the promise of a home-cooked meal later on. So, I step in to the little coffee shop that I always pass but have never entered. It's called Little Bean.

After ordering a small coffee and a blueberry muffin, I have a seat near the fireplace. It's rather cold out today and stupidly, I've been protesting the winter winds by refusing to wear a coat yet; it feels too soon.

My thoughts inevitably wander to work. I'm happy that now, I finally have more free time on my hands. Idly, I consider hobbies that I might want to pick up. When I first started out at the company, I was just an intern with high hopes and a hell of a lot to prove. Now at age 29, I'm at the head of my Accounting Department and while the stresses of my job are enough to keep me more than busy, I'm content in knowing that there'll be no ladder climbing for me for a while.

And that's just what I am in every aspect of my life: content. It may be a little lonely at times, but I'm proud of my accomplishments.

I look around the coffee shop and take note that it has a warm, cozy feel to it. But then again, that might just be the fireplace talking, granting me a reprieve from the cool Seattle winds from outside. Still, it's a charming little place and I wonder why I've never thought to step in here before.

And in my quick perusal of the shop, I see her.

I see the most beautiful creature I've ever set my eyes on. That's the first thing my eyes notice.

She has pale, nearly translucent skin, like nothing I've ever seen before. It's absolutely flawless. Her thick, shiny brown hair frames her heart shaped face. Her little button nose is scrunched up in thought and I wonder if she knows how adorable she looks right now. Her full bottom lip is trapped between her teeth and I feel the urge to know what has her so distressed.

The second thing my eyes notice is that she's sitting on the opposite end of the shop near the only other fireplace. She's crouched over, in a slightly hunched position, completely lost in her thoughts. Interestingly, like no one else in the shop, save me, she's not _doing_ anything; no cell phone on which to check messages, no laptop on which to check emails, no book, no newspaper, not even a coffee on which to sip, nothing. Just herself and her thoughts.

Lastly, I take note of her figure. She's much too thin. She's all skin and bones and it doesn't look natural; no, she must be malnourished. Her pink sweater absolutely swallows her whole.

Abruptly, as if shaking herself out of her thoughts, she stands up to turn around.

Immediately, I panic, thinking that I haven't even had the chance to talk to her yet. I somehow inherently know that I can't let her go and I sure as hell won't let her go without talking to her first.

My panic subsides though when I notice that she's only headed for the ladies' room. And when it does, I notice that she has a really cute butt.

I put my feet up on a nearby table and wait her out. As she walks back in to the room, her eyes are trained firmly on the ground and I need to know whether this is the way she always walks or if she's had a particularly rough day.

And just as she's about to sit down, her gaze shifts upward, like she can feel _my_ gaze on her, and our eyes meet.

And they're the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.

They're big and wide and brown and blinking and inquisitive and confused and searching and… they're gone.

Before she can drop her gaze though, I notice that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

We have yet to utter a single word to each other but her eyes have already said it all. She's hurting and hurting deeply and what I wouldn't give to know what it's over.

I hope it's not something over a boyfriend. In fact, I would _hate_ if that "something wrong" is about a boyfriend.

I can tell that I've made her uncomfortable with my staring though; she's trying her best to look anywhere but me and she's almost successful.

Summoning the courage from somewhere deep within, I decide that it would be rude to not at least say something to her, you know, verbally, what with all of the unspoken messages we've been shooting at each other. That's complete bull though because I know I would talk to her with or without the blatant staring that just happened.

And with that, I toss my empty coffee cup in a nearby trashcan and pick up my food to make my way across the room.

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**A/N: I'm a complete idiot for starting another story, aren't I? Please leave me a review letting me know what you think. I already have the next few chapters written out and with some minor editing, they'll be posted soon. **


	2. Saved

**Because everyone wants to be a hero.**

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__EPOV

_Summoning the courage from somewhere deep within, I decide that it would be rude to not at least say something to her, you know, verbally, with all of the unspoken messages we've been shooting at each other. That's complete bull though because I know I would talk to her with or without the blatant staring that just happened._

_And with that, I toss my empty coffee cup in a nearby trashcan and pick up my food to make my way across the room._

She notices me walking over but still hasn't quite worked up the nerve to look anywhere above my knees. If she didn't look quite so panicked, it might be endearing.

I take a seat in the plushy, navy blue arm chair right in front of her and… Damn, I really should have thought out what I was going to say before I walked my ass over here.

I extend my arm out to her so we can shake hands but before I get the chance to do so, she cowers away from me, her hands almost coming up to shield her face.

I don't know what I've done wrong. _Is she scared? Of me?_

Setting my hand back on my thigh awkwardly, I decide that I might have better luck with words. "Hi, um, I just saw you sitting over here by yourself and I figured that I might come over and you know… say 'hi.'"

I'm a fucking idiot and she must know it at this point.

"Are you hungry? I have a muffin," I say, thrusting my half eaten muffin at her, like it'll coax her in to talking to me.

She looks at me blankly but surprisingly, she takes the muffin. I even grab her a couple foils of butter from the next table over because yeah, she can use them.

"Thanks," she says, or whispers rather.

And while she's eating I get a better look at her. And she's even more beautiful than I had originally thought. And she's even _younger_ than I had originally thought.

The small smatterings of freckles across the bridge of her little nose give her away. And her paradoxically innocent eyes; eyes that are incredibly haunted. They've seen too much and yet not much at all. I'm begging God to let her be over 18 at this point. Not just for my sake, but for her sake, too.

"So, do you come here often?" I really don't give a shit but I would really love to hear her sweet voice again.

"No, this is my first time in here," she says, pausing her nibbling on the muffin to tell me.

"Oh, I actually meant Seattle. Do you come in to town often?"

"Yes, I live nearby but I come in a couple times a week for work."

And I'm really happy to know this because most places require you to be at least 18 for employment, right? I hope I'm right.

"Well, are you hungry? I could buy us a late lunch," I offer. I'm really not hungry anymore but I don't want her to feel self-conscious.

"No, thanks, I was actually about to get going anyway," she says.

I'm starting to get a little antsy at this point. I don't know why, but she can't leave just yet, and definitely not before I feed her first. So idiotically, I say, "No, I insist. Stay, you look like you could use it."

And the look on her face tells me I've fucked up. She looks pissed and offended and honestly, I'm a little impressed. Her entire being screams, or whispers, of meekness and timidity, but right now, she's pissed.

She grabs her messenger bag off the floor with a little huff of indignation and drapes it over her body. She sways a little bit on her feet though, lessening the effect of her exit. I want to touch her arm to get her to sit back down again but I don't think she'll do so well with me touching her just yet; at least if her reaction to shaking my hand is any indication.

_Words, Edward! Use yours words again!_

"Fuck, I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean that," I say.

"And what exactly did you mean?" she retorts.

"Just that I would really like it if you stayed. And I could do with a lunch partner."

Her face softens a little bit and she hesitantly lowers herself down onto the arm chair.

"How about introductions first?" She doesn't oppose so I continue. "I'm Edward Cullen, I live right outside of Seattle and I would really like to get to know you."

Big brown eyes look at me in confusion and a slight sense of exasperation as well; like I've already worn her out or something. _Maybe she's just not used to strangers obsessing over her in quaint little coffee shops? _

"Isabella Swan. But you can call me Bella if you want." And it's perfect, of course her name is perfect.

I give her a huge smile in encouragement just because I didn't quite think she would introduce herself to me. She gives me a tiny smile in return and thankfully, I see her sink in to her chair more and relax a little bit.

"So about that lunch? I'll go up and get us something," I say before getting up to go stand in line.

I keep my eyes trained on Bella as I stand in line and she keeps her eyes on me, too. I give her a little wink but that does her in; with a smile on her face, she looks at her lap instead. I chuckle softly at her and I'm happy that the air between us is lighter now.

When it's my turn in line, I order two bagels, a couple more muffins, another coffee for her, a cold sub and I also grab a water bottle at the last minute. Just to be safe.

She eyes the tray dubiously as I walk back to our chairs and I hope I'm not making her uncomfortable with all of this. She just looks like she could use some taking care of.

"Is that all for us?" she asks.

"Unless you're planning on inviting someone else?" I respond teasingly.

She blushes and picks up a bagel from the tray. I wait until she's buttered it up before I pick up another muffin for myself.

At this point, I've already decided that dinner at Mom's is probably not happening. I still have an incredibly close relationship with my parents and always try to see them at least once a week. Still, I'm sure they can handle me not showing up this one time; right now, Bella is more important. And I hope like hell that this feeling isn't just a fleeting sentiment.

"So, Bella? Tell me a little bit about yourself."

"Um, what would you like to know?" She seems really apprehensive at this point and I agree with her that yes, I should be a little more specific.

I eye her silver rosary that's peeking out from under her pink sweater.

Nodding to it, I ask, "Are you a religious person?"

Bella looks down to it, almost kind of surprised to see it there. Like an alien appendage she's grown overnight. "No, actually. It's more of an accessory nowadays."

And I'm terribly intrigued by that. I wonder what the story is behind her losing her faith, but that might just be too heavy for coffee shop banter.

"Why, are you very religious? I'm sorry if that offended you about it being an accessory, it's just that… It's just that I'm going through some things personally and…"

She's getting a little red in the face now but she keeps going. "And I know they say you should remember God in the bad times, not only the good, but lately there hasn't been very much hope so—"

I cut her off right there because I can't stand to see her so uncomfortable about something I don't even mind. "Bella, hey… Sweetheart, relax. I don't mind, I've never really paid much attention to religion anyway. And even if I did, you never have to justify yourself to anyone, okay?"

"Okay," she says. She still looks a little flustered and I'm thinking that I'm doing a really terrible job at this. Lighter topics, that's what I need.

"Tell me about your job? Do you like working in Seattle?"

Her entire face lights up and I'm struck again by just how beautiful she really is. And I'm happy that I've picked a safe topic. "Yeah, I love Seattle. It's so different from, you know, what I'm used to.

"And work is good too. I work in a little bookstore and it's only a couple of blocks from here."

I consider myself pretty well read, so I ask, "What's the last thing you've read?"

"Mmm… shoot, now I'm a little embarrassed to say," she tells me, truly looking like she's committed some sort of cardinal sin.

Laughing lightly, I say, "Well now you're just going to have to tell me. You have me intrigued."

"Okay, but you can't hold it against me. It was one of those gossip magazines."

I smirk at her and am about to interrupt her to tell her that she doesn't really seem like the type but she beats me to the punch, saying, "But I was waiting in a really long line! And it was so boring and I was getting kind of tired so I figured I'd pick it up."

I'm laughing openly at her now because while she's laughing too, she really does seem embarrassed to divulge this information. "Bella, hey, remember what I said before about not having to justify yourself? I'm totally okay with gossip magazines being your guilty pleasure," I say, teasingly of course.

She just lets out a little _psh_ sound and moves on to eating the sandwich.

There's a little pause in our conversation but it's not awkward so I take the opportunity to grab our empty wrappers to throw them in the trashcan. But as I'm getting up, I see a slight look of panic on her face and selfishly, it warms my heart. It makes me happy to know that she doesn't want me to leave. She would miss me if I were to leave. But there's no way I'm leaving.

I see her take a visible sigh of relief when I sit back down in my seat.

And as she bends down to pick up a wrapper I missed, I see her little pink sweater ride up to reveal a big, red, angry looking welt.

My breath hitches in my throat.

And my suspicions solidify.

And I know what I have to do now.

"Bella?"

She looks up at me. But not before furiously pulling her sweater back down. Her eyes are shamed.

"How old are you, honey?"

"I'm 19 years old," she tells me, with a certain sense of trepidation to her voice.

But I'm satisfied with her answer. She's 19.

She's 19 and I can help her.

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**A/N: Leave me a review telling me what you think, please. **

**I'm gaining some momentum with this story and I know exactly where I want to go with it. **

**Expect updates within only a few days of each other :) **


	3. Convinced

**Because everyone deserves the chance to hope. **

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EPOV

"_How old are you, honey?_"

"_I'm 19 years old,_"_ she tells me, with a certain sense of trepidation to her voice._

_But I'm satisfied with her answer. She's 19._

_She's 19 and I can help her._

She knows that I've seen the welt marring the pale skin of her waist because she's refusing to meet my eyes again.

And after I've confirmed her age, I sit back in my chair and… I'm speechless.

That mark is the kind of thing that is deliberate and only from the ugliest type of soul. The type of soul that can justify brutally traumatizing someone so helpless and innocent. The kind of thing that makes me so fucking emotional and confused. _Who the _fuck_, in their right mind, would hurt a girl like this?_

She seems so sweet and defenseless and just…

And I want to hunt the motherfucker down like a hound dog that dared to lay a finger on her.

I know I'm making her very uncomfortable with my silence but I just need a minute to get my shit together. But I refuse to regress into the initial awkwardness of our conversation so I'm hoping like hell she'll go along with what I'm planning on offering her.

"Bella. Please look at me."

She looks up.

"Listen to me and hear me out completely before you say anything. But before I start," I say, with my heart in my throat, "is there someone in your life? A husband, boyfriend, anything?"

"No, there's no one like that."

"Are you sure? There's no other man in your life that would mind you talking to me?"

"No, I promise you, Edward," she tells me and when she says my name, her voice is full of emotion.

Looking at her now, I see a young girl that's nervous as hell; she has no idea what I'm about to say. She might even be scared of my proposition. She could be scared by a _lack_ of a proposition. Her fear could be stemming from any number of things, but beneath all of that, her eyes are shining with excitement and hope. She needs this and she's daring to hope.

"Okay, well here's the part where I'm going to ask you to hear me out. And with any luck, you won't run away screaming in the other direction. Bella, I don't want you to give me any details about your situation until you're absolutely ready to. Until then, I won't ask for any answers and I won't push you. That being said though, I want you to know that I'm giving you an out."

"What exactly are you saying?" Bella asks.

I know I'm being hella ambiguous but I'm trying to ease her in to the situation so that I don't overwhelm her all at once.

"I'm saying that without you having to tell me, I know that the situation at home can't be good. In fact, from my point of view, I'd venture to say that it's downright _bad._ I'm not wrong, am I?"

She nods.

"I want… I want not to sound like a pervert or something, but I want you to come live with me."

She's already nodding her head in the negative furiously. And it hurts to know that she would so readily reject my offer. Yes, I'm a complete stranger to her but could I really be worse than what's waiting for her at home?

But I'm sure as fuck not going down without a fight so my words come out in a rush. "Bella, I would expect nothing, and I mean _nothing_, in return for this. If all you want me for is to provide a roof over your head and food to eat, then I can give you that. And if you want more someday, I can give you that, too. But please know there's absolutely no pressure.

"And to be completely honest, honey? You don't have much of a choice right now, do you? You must barely be eating and… And I don't think you can keep this up for much longer."

I don't mean to back her up in to a corner like I just did but really, I don't think she's giving me much of a choice. I know that stating the facts, with what limited knowledge I have, so bluntly and hopelessly may be the only way to make her say yes.

And she needs to say yes.

"Bella, what are you thinking?"

With the breath leaving her body in one large _huff_, she tells me, "I'm thinking you're a stranger. And Edward, I can usually read people pretty well and you seem like one of those that are just genuinely good… but I don't know you. I don't know that living with you would be an improvement. How do I know you are what you say you are?"

She doesn't, she doesn't know if I'm telling her the truth and the only confirmation I can give her is my words. And I'm trying not to get frustrated but I can't help it.

I don't know how to make her believe me.

So instead, I ask, "Do you have to be home anytime soon?" I cringe to think that she may very well walk away from me, refuse my offer, and go back to her living hell.

"No, not really. I was supposed to be working a few hours longer but my boss let me go early today. Why?"

"Because I want you to know that you don't have to give me an answer right now. What do you say to a walk?"

"Okay."

We both stand up and I notice that she only comes up to my chest and I feel the most intense urge to just wrap her up in my arms because damn, if anyone's ever needed it…

Taking her a little bit by surprise, despite my slow motions, I envelope her in a hug. I'm careful to be gentle with her though. She's so very thin and I also don't know where else she could be hurt on her body.

She relaxes a little bit in to me and gently, hesitantly, wraps her own arms around my waist. When she lays her head down on my chest, almost in the crook of my shoulder, I take the opportunity to brush away a few wisps of hair away from her face. Softly, I whisper in her ear, "Everything's going to be okay, Bella. I'll make sure of it. Whatever you decide."

I know that I can't ensure her safety if she decides to go back home but I still need to make her feel safe. I don't want her to feel like I have her back up against the wall, although that's essentially what I've done.

Knowing that she needs this though, I can't find it in me to feel guilty.

The crowd has completely thinned out in the coffee shop, save a small group of people on the opposite end of the room, and I'm ready to leave.

I hold my hand out, slowly this time, and ask, "Can I take your hand?"

She gently places her much smaller hand in mine, and after inspecting her delicate little fingers for a couple seconds, I lead her out of the coffee shop.

When we step outside, I know she must be cold because _I'm_ cold so I remove my thin sweater, leaving me with just a flimsy tee and offer it to her.

"Edward, no, you'll be cold," she says, but she's shaking like a leaf at this point. After I assure her that I'm a warm blooded animal through and through, she finally takes it from me.

"Better?" I ask.

She nods and I take her hand again in my right hand and use my other arm to snuggle her closer to me, trying to protect her from the winds. Maybe taking a walk wasn't the best idea.

After a few minutes of walking, I've subconsciously, or at least that's what I'm telling myself, led her to my car.

"Do you want to get inside it to talk?" I ask, or yell rather. The winds are whipping around sharply, making it a little hard to hear.

She eyes me dubiously so I feel the need to say, "Bella, really? Do you think I would take you against your will?"

I almost wish I had the balls to do that.

And with that, she climbs in to the passenger side of the car.

Once we're in, I blast the heat, rub my hands together, recline my seat a little bit, run my fingers through my hair, stall some more, and try to think of the right thing to say.

Bella breaks the silence though. "Why do you want to help me?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "But there's something in you that I can't ignore; that I don't want to ignore."

I move my hand to rest it on the small of her back. Without even realizing she's doing it, she shifts closer to me.

"We have some sort of connection and you can't tell me that you don't feel it, Bella. Why are you so hesitant? I'm not trying to sound rude, but I would imagine someone in your situation would jump at the chance of help."

"And _I'm _not trying to be rude but Edward, you have no idea what it's like to be in my situation. You don't know why I have to be so hesitant. Or why it's so hard for me to trust others."

She's completely right and I'm honestly in no position to be making assumptions about her. I know next to nothing about her. "You're right; I'm sorry."

I'm completely defeated at this point because I don't know what else I can say. I'm thinking the most she'll let me do for her is give her a ride home.

But then she says, "What about my clothes though? Belongings?"

And hope surges through me again because I can tell she's giving this some serious thought.

I say whatever I have to in order to placate her. "Are they things that you absolutely can't live without? Because if they are, we can drive by sometime this week, when no one's home, to pick them up. But if not, I have pretty much everything you'll need."

"Even clothes?" she asks.

"Clothing for now might be a little problematic, but it's nothing we can't handle. But books, a laptop, even a car… Anything really… I've got that covered."

"How much will rent be? Because I still only work part-time."

What the hell? Is that really what she thought I was proposing, having her move in to be my roommate?

"Didn't I say I wanted nothing in return, Bella?"

"Why won't you take my money though? If I'm taking up space…"

"Because to be frank, I don't need it. I don't need anything, all I want to do is help you. I know this all probably sounds crazy, but I just need you to put a little blind faith in me. Trust me, and I'll take care of you. I really don't think you'll regret this."

She makes me sweat a little when she pauses for a few long moments before answering.

"Yes."

"Yes, really?" After all that, she makes her decision sound so easy. I know it wasn't though, the look on her face tells me that.

I'm overcome though with emotion that she actually trusts me with this so I pull her face close just to touch her cheek with mine.

I regret moving so hastily though when she freezes up on me. Soon, she relaxes.

And surprising the hell out of me, she presses her soft lips to my cheek, giving me a little kiss.

I sit back, with my hand still on the back of her head, in amazement at her that she's taken to me so easily.

Finally, when I've taken my little moment to be a pansy, I clear my throat and ask, "You ready to go home?"

Yeah, I'm a presumptuous fuck referring to my place as her home already, but I'm on top of the world right now.

She nods at me, smiling, and with that we take off.

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**A/N: Please review letting me know what you think of the story so far. **

**As a reader, you guys, pacing is so important to me. I don't like it when writers say something like, "And over the next few months, Edward and Bella grew closer than they ever imaged they would." Something equally bad is, "Their conversation was filled with laughs and Edward acknowledged that he had never talked to anyone so candidly in his life before." It seems like the cheap way out and as a reader, I want to SEE that journey being made, not just be told about it. That is why at Chapter Three, Bella and Edward were still in the coffee shop. Obviously, at some point, there will be the inevitable time jump but for now, I'm enjoying taking it slow and I hope you all don't mind it too much either :)**


	4. Loved

**Because love at first sight isn't always all its cracked up to be.**

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EPOV

_Finally, when I've taken my little moment to be a pansy, I clear my throat and ask, "You ready to go home?"_

_Yeah, I'm a presumptuous fuck referring to my place as her home already, but I'm top of the world right now._

_She nods at me, smiling, and with that we take off._

As I'm driving through the city to get the both of us home, I notice that we're both sitting back with smiles on our faces.

We're being selectively oblivious to the challenges that we'll face indefinitely but for now, all I can hope for is that the magnitude of our situation doesn't hit us until at least tomorrow.

I know that I'll never regret making Bella safe, even if our relationship never elevates to the level I would like it to.

Honestly though, I can't see how it won't. Even now, she and I are so damn attuned to each other and we've only just met. I'm holding her hand in mine, and both of our hands are resting on my right thigh. Every so often Bella will squeeze my hand or run a short circle with her thumb across the skin of my hand, probably just looking for some reassurance; reassurance that she's doing the right thing.

All I can do is squeeze her hand back tightly, give her a hopefully comforting smile, and simply let time do the talking.

"Bella? Why don't you tell me about your belongings that we'll be picking up?" I ask her. I want to make her feel more comfortable with me and if she has any belongings that'll help her do that, then I'm all for it; although I can't imagine there are a great number of things from home that have positive memories.

"Well, I do have a truck. It's a complete piece of crap though. It kept breaking down, which is why I've been taking the bus lately," she says. Her words don't match the sense of longing I can detect from her though.

"I can fix it up for you if you want. We'll have it towed," I offer.

"Edward, honestly, I can't ask you to do anymore for me. This is already far, far too much."

"You're not asking, honey. I'm offering. Plus, I'm really handy with things these like these; fixing up cars is one of my few indulgences," I tell her.

Ideally, I would like to give her one of my own cars. I'm sure they're much safer but even I can tell that it's a bit soon for that.

"And besides your truck?"

"There really isn't much else. I'll probably pick up my legal documentation, my books, and some clothes," she says.

I can see how upsetting this is for her though, that all of her belongings that mean anything at all to her from her previous life can fit in the trunk of my BMW.

And when I see her rubbing her tears away furiously, I immediately pull over on to the side of the road.

I get out of the car to open her door, take off her seatbelt and pull her legs out of the car. Crouching down to get on her level, I take her hands away from her eyes gently and pull her face down in to the crook of my neck to let her cry it out.

She's sobbing now, having a complete breakdown it seems, she's probably been overdue one for a while now, and the small whimpers coming from her absolutely break my heart.

Rubbing my hands down the length of her little arms, I tell her, "Shhh, Bella. Sweetheart, everything will be okay. I _promise_ you that. I promise you'll never have to go back there. I'll take care of you if you let me."

I can feel the movement of her nodding. I pull her away from me a little bit and cradle her face in both of my hands. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are rimmed a little bit in red, but even now, she's absolutely beautiful.

"Sorry for breaking down like this. You must think I'm such a mess…" I also hear her mutter "stupid" and "embarrassing" under her breath, but I'm not having any of that.

"Bella, no, I completely understand. You needed to do that, all right?" She nods. "But I don't want to see anymore tears from you this weekend. You'll see, it'll even be fun."

She looks at me doubtfully and asks, "Are you sure you want to live with me? I'm kind of messy. Plus, on some days, I don't even change out of my pajamas."

"Oh, Slumber Sundays, of course," I tell her soberly.

"Slumber Sundays?" she asks, eyebrows bunched in confusion.

"Of course, you didn't know? It's practically a holiday in my house."

She giggles, shaking her head at me and asks, "But don't you live by yourself?"

Shit, she has me there.

"What if I go out? You know, in public, in my pajamas?"

I know she's asking her question in jest, but I think I could only really answer her if I knew exactly what she wears to bed. If it's flimsy and revealing, then I don't think I could let her go out like that. My mind is suddenly flooded with images.

And _fuck_, now is not the time to be thinking about this.

"Maybe we should just keep that for my eyes only."

She blushes and looks down.

Satisfied that I've made the atmosphere a little lighter, I drop a kiss on her forehead and walk around the car to get back in to my side.

As I'm buckling up, I ask her, "You okay?"

She nods but I can tell that she doesn't want to talk about it anymore so I let it go for now.

I start up the car again and merge in to the traffic.

"Seriously though, have you ever lived with someone before?" she asks me.

She could just be asking me for the sake of knowing but for now, I let myself believe that she's interested in my relationship history.

"I haven't, not since I moved out of my parent's house."

I've never been in love, haven't even had a long term relationship. I know this may come off as unusual at my age and I don't want her to think I have commitment issues so I just don't tell her.

Honestly though, it has nothing to with commitment; once I'm interested in something, at least in my business endeavors, I'm all for it, both feet in. It's more to do with simply not having the desire to have a girlfriend. I've never wanted to care for someone, provide, the way I want to with Bella.

But I know she's not ready for anything like that with me, probably won't be for a while.

And for now, I'm content to take it slow.

Ten minutes later, we pull up in to my driveway.

I'm trying to see what my house might look like in Bella's eyes.

Like I've said before, there aren't a very many number of things that I indulge in. Two of them include my cars and my privacy. My house is tucked away, mostly obscured by the long driveway and the greenery. There aren't any neighbors' houses in sight, one of the few requirements I had.

Other than that, it's a cozy three bedroom and for the five years that I've lived here, it's always been enough. It's a new model and when I was on the market for a house, I never expected to actually start from scratch. But when I had found this lot of land, that afforded me the privacy I craved, I couldn't pass it up.

Bella's eyes are searching, taking in everything she can about her surroundings. I walk around the car to open her door and take her hand, helping her out of the car.

We walk up the remainder of the cobblestone driveway up to the massive wooden door, the entrance to my house. I open the door for her and allow her to walk in first.

She's still looking around, taking everything in, and because I genuinely want to know what she's thinks of it, I ask, "Well, what do you think?"

"Wow, this… definitely has potential." I let out a huge _guffaw_, in mock offense. She's trying to be nice and her attempt at a compliment makes us both crack up.

Really, I'm just excited that she's comfortable enough around me to express her opinion.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's a little masculine… But it has a great foundation, don't you think? Maybe a woman's touch is just what it needs."

Wordlessly, she wanders in to the living room, just to the right of the foyer and walks up to the forest green couch. The _beloved_ forest green, L-shaped couch.

"Really, Edward? This couch?" she asks, honestly looking stupefied that I could buy something like that, while running her fingers along the back of it

She doesn't know I spent several thousand on that couch and chaise set but even I'll admit it's a little ugly. Fine, hideous, it's absolutely hideous.

"Trust me, I've gotten enough flak about that thing from my Mom over the years."

"She wouldn't be a very good Mom if you _didn't_ get any flak over this," she informs me with a smirk.

"Just wait until you have a seat on it and then you can talk your smack," I say, completely confident that the plushy seats will win her over. It's what won me over, and really, as ugly as the thing is, it would take a lot to sway my opinion.

She gives me a disbelieving look but walks around the couch anyway to take a seat on it. She's made a good choice, she's sitting on the far left side of it.

She shifts around trying to get comfortable on it, and finally rests her head on the back of it, letting out a little sigh. She closes her eyes and says, "Wow."

"Just wait, you haven't even gotten the full effect of it." I'm standing right behind where she's sitting and I lean over her body to recline the seat back.

Once she's all settled, I slide my fingers in to her hair. It's silk under my fingertips. I gently begin to massage her scalp.

After a couple minutes, her breathing gets heavier and I know if I keep this up she'll be asleep soon.

"Bella, hey, you can't fall asleep yet. We still have a few things to take care of," I whisper in her ear, stopping my attentions.

"I know, it's just that I'm so _tired_… I haven't had good sleep in the longest time now," she mumbles, her voice thickening with sleep.

"I know, honey. I just want you to eat dinner, change your clothes, have a shower…"

She perks up at this and begins to sit up.

"Can I take a shower now?" she asks.

"Sure, let's just go to my room to get you some clothes." We leave the living room together and I lead her up to the stairs to the master bedroom on the far left side of the second floor.

She kind of hesitates when we reach my door so I take her hand to pull her in. She stands by my nightstand and I kind of just want to stand there and stare at her, in my room, in my house…

I remember what we came in here for and shaking myself out of my thoughts, I walk in to my closet. I grab her a comfortable, cotton t-shirt, the smallest that I can find, and hand it to her.

"Sorry, I don't have any women's clothes," I tell her as I walk back in to the closet to find her something that'll fit her on the bottom.

"Is that really something you want to be sorry about, Edward?" she asks me, a smile in her voice.

Eventually, I locate a pair of drawstring, fleece pajama bottoms and I realize what I've just said. Laughing as I come out of the closet, I say, "No, you're right."

I show her to the bathroom, the one right across from the bedroom she'll probably be using and leave her to do her thing.

While she's in there, I straighten up her room, making sure the sheets are clean, there are enough pillows, if the temperature's okay… I'm pretty sure I even checked under the bed. No idea what the fuck I was planning on finding there.

Once I'm satisfied with her room, I make my way in to the kitchen to decide what we should do for dinner. We could go out but I know Bella's way too tired for that right now. I could always cook but I'm not sure if I want to subject the poor girl to my cooking on her first night here. Finally, I decide that pizza is probably the best route for now.

I'm not sure if all that grease and oil will be too much too soon for her in her delicate state. I call up the pizza place anyway, and order pizza and a sandwich for her, just in case.

And just as I'm finishing up on the phone, Bella walks in to the kitchen, drying her hair with a towel. And seeing her in my clothes just does something to me…

The shirt I gave her is way too large, just like I expected. The bottoms though, the bottoms are really something to behold. Not only is the waist too big to accommodate her tiny size, but they're far too long. She's rolled up the waist of them several times and on top of that, she's tied her ponytail holder around the excess fabric at her waist. She looks absolutely adorable.

"Don't laugh!" she scolds me, even though she's smiling herself.

I do my best to wipe the smile off my face and ask her, "Is pizza okay for dinner? I got you a sandwich too, just in case."

"Sure, pizza sounds good."

We'll have to go in to Seattle to get her some clothes tomorrow. I'm really dreading having to go back to her house so if I can prolong it, I honestly feel that we'll both benefit from it.

After we've both eaten in the kitchen, we end up on the couch again. We're just sitting there, relaxing and watching some TV. We started out not touching each other but somehow, we've both drifted closer to one another and Bella is practically sitting on my lap now. Rubbing her arm, I ask, "Didn't I tell you about this couch? Nobody gets it until they've experienced it."

"You're right, I take it back," she says, even rubbing her hand on the seat of the couch, like she's apologizing to it. "But it is an ugly couch, there's no denying that."

No, there isn't.

"Tell me what you're thinking. I hope this isn't overwhelming you, Bella," I say.

"I am a little overwhelmed though," she says, looking down at her legs. "I keep thinking that this is all too good to be true, that _you're_ too good to be true. I feel like I'm just here until someone takes me away and makes me go home."

"I want this to be your home though."

She shifts her gaze to look at me as she talks. "I want that too, Edward. I'm trying."

And my mind is just brimming with questions. I want to know what happened to her, who gave her those marks, but most importantly, who the hell she keeps looking over her shoulder for. I've noticed in the little time she's been here that she's slightly uncomfortable, which is to be expected, but I also see pure fear in her eyes.

I don't know who's after her or who she's running from, but I promised her I wouldn't push her for answers.

I wonder how long I'll be able to keep that promise.

Immediately after I leave Bella to her room to finally get some sleep, I grab my laptop and go downstairs to my office.

I open up Google and search "Isabella Swan." I really wish I didn't have to snoop around to get answers but the curiosities, and most importantly the fears, are gnawing away at me.

All I've found of her online, from her high school website, is that she graduated last year. She was in the Honor Society, a distinction of sorts for students ranking in the top 15 percent of their class. It lists that she was scheduled to go to the University of Washington. Obviously though, that didn't happen.

Under her parents, all it has listed is "Renee Higginbotham." I'm guessing there's no father figure in the picture then.

Essentially, I find nothing.

And before I lay my head down to go to sleep that night, I ponder the distresses of love at first sight.

* * *

**A/N: What do you guys think so far? Leave a review letting me know, please.**

**Longest chapter I've ever written, it took quite a bit out of me haha :) **


	5. Doctored

**Because nobody's perfect.**

* * *

EPOV

_And before I lay my head down to go to sleep that night, I ponder the distresses of love at first sight._

The next morning, Bella tries to leave me.

Yes, I knew that things wouldn't be easy but I didn't know that Bella would voluntarily remove herself.

And it pissed me the fuck off.

The day started out completely fine. Or maybe it didn't; I know how I can be an ignorant fucker at times. But I just didn't _get _it; we knew each other not even a full day but I was doing my best to be attentive to all of her needs and concerns. I would have noticed if something was off.

Bella came down the stairs still wearing my t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. We talked about our plans for the day: we decided we would go to the mall for her to get clothing and other necessities, grab some lunch, and just spend the day in Seattle. It was Sunday, and neither of us had to work or fulfill any other obligations; a rare treat really.

But then something changed in Bella, some sort of switch just went off.

I suggested that we should eat a breakfast of waffles, one of the few things I _could_ make, before we took off for the day. She said she was just going to run upstairs to brush her teeth first.

She didn't come back down for 20 minutes. I didn't know what she was doing but I decided to just let her do her thing while I made us breakfast.

Finally, she came down the stairs still in my shirt, but her own dark jeans from yesterday, hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, and her messenger bag slung over her body.

"Bella? Is everything okay?"

"No, Edward, I have to go. My Mom's gunna be home any minute now and she'll wonder where the hell I am," she said as she hastily pulled on her boots. "I need to go, Edward! Can you just drop me off at the bus station?"

"_What?_"

No, but seriously, what the fuck?

I was completely prepared to console her to; to reassure her of her choice to stay with me. I was ready; I knew this would happen at one point or another.

"What happened? What changed? Did you call your parents or something from upstairs?" I asked. I instantly regretted not checking up on her for the 20 minutes she was gone. I even would have eavesdropped on her conversation on the phone if it would have helped me right now.

"No! Why would I call her? To let her know that I'm here? I would never…"

She was making perfect sense and yet no sense at all.

"Look, I can't stay. I don't know what the hell I was thinking last night, why on Earth I thought I could do this. But I need to go, Edward. Please, just let me? And don't call me or look me up. You can't contact me, it wouldn't end well for me, okay? Can you promise me that?"

I completely ignore her inane requests because, _no_, I sure as fuck can't promise her that.

"Bella, look at me. You need to calm the fuck down _right now_. You're freaking me the hell out. Take a seat," I told her, pulling her down to sit on one of the stools in my kitchen. "Take a deep breath and then, slowly this time, explain what your problem is."

I knew I wasn't being gentle with her and I was making demands when she was in no position to give me anything, but right then, I just needed to know. Right then, I was getting irrational and hot-headed because she just couldn't leave me.

Yeah, I was being selfish but even if Bella wouldn't admit, the girl _needed_ me.

I had brought her in to my world and she wasn't leaving it.

"Edward, I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry. I never should have come with you here and wasted your time. I shouldn't even have accepted lunch from you. I don't need help; I don't need you, okay?"

I felt myself growing angrier and angrier with every thoughtless word that popped out of her mouth.

"I don't know if you're harboring some sort of hero complex or something but—"

I cut her off. I couldn't take the shit she was spewing anymore.

"You don't need me, Bella? You don't need help. Is that right?"

"I don't need anyone's help! I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. I go to work and I _have_ a home, just like everyone else, and I'm not yours to take care of."

And then I started to get mad at _her_.

I got mad because I started to wish her words were true. I wished that she was taking care of herself and that she wasn't allowing whatever the hell was happening to happen. I wished that we had met under less stressful circumstances.

I even considered that she was lying to me.

She mentioned that her Mom would be looking for her, but I didn't think the marks I saw on her looked like they were inflicted on her by a woman.

"You know what, for some reason, I don't believe that you actually can take care of yourself, Bella. Maybe it's the fact that you're fucking emaciated that's tipping me off. How the hell are you taking care of yourself when you're barely eating?"

In my blind rage, I didn't see her face going red. I didn't see the tears welling and I sure as hell didn't see the betrayed look in her eyes.

And then I did about the stupidest thing I could have done.

I pulled her shirt up to reveal the marks on her body, and like a fucking maniac, pointing at her body, I said, "Explain this! How did this happen? Is this the sort of thing that people that _take care of themselves_ let happen?"

And then I had to take just a second to stare at her body. The scars, marks, and welts decorating her pale skin made bile rise in my throat. Her ribs looked like they were protruding painfully and her waist was nonexistent.

And in that instant, I felt hate, pure and unadulterated, flowing through my body like a fucking tidal wave. What I had seen in the coffee shop, apparently, had only been a horrific little prelude to what Bella was hiding under her clothes.

And I hated myself.

For not finding her earlier. For the words that had just found themselves carelessly out of my mouth. For making this so much harder for her.

She pushed my arms away from her body with a strength that surprised me, pulled her shirt down, and ran out of my house.

* * *

It's been 15 minutes since Bella stormed out. If she had her truck with her, I have no doubt she would be on her way home right now.

I almost wouldn't blame her. Almost.

I had fucked up hugely, definitely beyond repair.

Still, I'm not prepared to let her go. I'm not so much a tyrant that I'd make her stay in my house with me against her will. No, I would never do that to her. What I _am_ prepared to offer her, however, is to put her up in an apartment, a hotel room at the very least. Help her with whatever she needs.

Because even after that explosive fight, and explosive it _was_ on my part, I can't shake my feelings for her. They're strong and all-consuming and downright scary.

I wonder how badly I've scared her, because there are a great number of things that could have done the job. The way I screamed in her face, the way I pulled her shirt up, the way I just fucking lost it.

I just couldn't fathom though how she could so easily pack up her stuff, traipse down the stairs, and ask for me to drop her off at the bus station. Is it really so easy for her to make that decision? Does she not care for me even a tenth, no a hundredth, of what I care for her?

Even while I'm thinking the thoughts though, I know they're not true. I know she does like me, at the very least. Her apprehensiveness was something I could sense all the way across the room in the coffee shop. I'm being far too sensitive because I know Bella wouldn't have said yes to just anyone who offered her a hot meal and a soft place to land. Although I'm positive her feelings don't have the same fervor as mine do, I do know that she cares for me.

Or at least she did.

The shrill ring tone of my cell phone pierces through my thoughts. I grab for it and the caller ID informs me that it's my Mom.

_Fuck_. In all of the commotion of having Bella over yesterday, I completely forgot to call her and cancel our dinner plans.

"Hello?" I answer guiltily.

"Edward! I called you last night; I was so worried when you didn't show up."

And I'm truly sorry, I don't want her to worry about me.

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry, I just got really caught up here, you know…"

"Caught up with what? You weren't working late yesterday…"

And I do wish I could explain the situation to her, but now is just not the right time. Now is the opposite of the right time.

"Can I call you back? Now really isn't a good time for me. Don't worry about me, I'm completely fine. I'll explain everything when I get the chance, okay? I love you, bye."

I hang up hastily before she even has the chance to return the sentiments.

I only take another minute before I man up to go outside and face what I've done.

I expect to find Bella waiting for me on the front steps and when she's not there, I begin to panic. I wasn't inside so long, was I? I reassure myself thinking that even if she did decide to walk, she definitely couldn't have gotten very far by now.

Before debating with myself whether I should take my car or not, I set out on foot to find her.

I walk the entire expanse of my driveway before I catch a glimpse of her.

She's sitting on the ground, facing away from me, arms hugging her knees. Her forehead is resting on her knees.

"Bella?"

She startles when she hears my voice, but doesn't acknowledge me otherwise. I take a seat on the ground next to her.

"Can I talk to you, please?"

Nothing.

I want so badly to touch her arm or her hair… anything. Anything at all to reestablish that connection from yesterday. So much like yesterday though, I realize I'll have to depend solely on my words again.

"I am so sorry, honey. I never should have done or said those things. I never should have made you so uncomfortable like that…

"But just let me try to explain where I'm coming from. Yesterday, and even this morning, I thought we had something; no, I _knew_ there was something there. Something in me that just wanted to take care of you and make you safe. Yesterday, you told me that you would let me do that."

She looks up at this. She face is blotchy and swollen and my words keep pouring out.

"I know you're scared though, and I won't fault you for feeling that way. But I just can't let you leave."

"_Excuse _me?" she asks, with a look of pure shock on her face. She even moves away from me, dragging her body on the ground to put some more distance between us.

I know this is the perfect moment to bring up my plan to put her up in one of the apartments in my complex downtown, but the selfish bastard I am, I just can't bring myself to do it yet. I can't allow her the choice to leave me before I get the chance to defend myself. But I do want her to have the choice nonetheless.

And now, I realize, like yesterday again, I'm going to have to get really fucking tactful.

"Hold on, wait wait wait. That's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is that you and I both know how out of line I was, that was completely unacceptable. But please, Bella? Please just understand what I'm trying to say."

Finally, she faces to turn me and meets my eyes.

Cautiously, I bring my hand to touch one of hers. She doesn't open her palm to me though so instead I just stroke the back of it.

"I know I scared you, sweetheart. But I'm not fucking perfect and sometimes, I let my temper get the better of me."

"You do have a really nasty temper," she interjects.

I nod, I completely agree with her assessment.

"I just got so mad… Not because you were leaving me…"

Lie.

"But because you would go back and _subject_ yourself to more abuse."

Truth.

"Still, that's no excuse for the way I reacted. I should have just listened to your concerns and tried to convince you otherwise. Next time, if you'll allow me a next time, I promise you I'll do better. This is all still so new to me. I've never had, I've never felt…"

I cut myself off right there before I reveal something far too telling.

"What I'm trying to say is that, I'm here for you and I care about you so much and I want to care _for_ you so much. But if you don't want that, there are other options." Hesitantly, very softly, as if I'm hoping she won't even hear me make the suggestion, I say, "There's always a hotel or even an apartment if you want…"

At this though, surprising me, she opens up her palm and threads our fingers together. "No! I don't want that, I want to live with you, Edward," she says.

I release a huge breath and pull her in closer. "Thank you," I say in to her shoulder. "I'm sorry for earlier."

She lets me hold her for a little while longer. Eventually though, she pulls away and says, "Me too. I'm so sorry, too. I just… I lost it. I got so scared that I would be found. It felt like I was just pretending to live here and I got scared of what my punishment would be if someone found me and… I don't want to leave!"

"That will never happen, honey; no one's going to make you go anywhere. I'm here for you and I'll take care of you, okay?"

She nods at me and I wish so badly that I could kiss her perfect pouty lips. But I decide that she is in no way ready for that. Also, I really don't want to kiss her in reaction to our first fight.

Mirroring my thoughts, Bella says, "That really was something for a first fight, wasn't it?" I'm happy to see her expression looking a little lighter, less tense.

"Let's not have a repeat anytime soon, okay?"

"Okay."

I give her a soft kiss behind her ear as she begins to lift herself off the ground. She sways on her feet though, almost falling back, until I grip her firmly around her arms.

"Bella! Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." She's apologizing to me, seriously?

"Does this kind of thing happen often?"

"Yeah, more recently now than ever."

And guilt courses through me, thick and heavy, dousing me completely. Had I not fed her properly the night before? Maybe not enough? Too much, too soon? The questions continue to surge through me, but for now, I need to take care of her before I beat myself up.

God knows I want to be her one and only someday, her source of comfort and the solution to her problems, but I'm realizing that some of her problems may be out of my depth and honestly, narcissism looks good on nobody.

"Bella, baby… Would you mind very much if we skipped the shopping today? I would really like to take you to the doctor."

"I guess… we can do that. I can take myself to the doctor, Edward. You don't have to spend your day off in the doctor's office."

I relax slightly when I realize _my_ discomfort is the primary source of her hesitation.

"Trust me, I won't mind."

I gently lift her in to my arms and start making my way back up the driveway. She gives a little sound of surprise at me carrying her, but I don't really think she minds that much. She might even like it.

Her slight weight bothers me. The sharpness of the bones in her back bothers me. The marks I've seen on her more than bother me. But I allow myself some comfort in knowing that we're going to take her to the doctor today.

Once inside, I sit her down on my lap and I feed her the waffles. She tells me they're the best waffles she's ever eaten.

* * *

Bella opts to stay in my t-shirt, bunching the excess fabric in to a knot at her waist, rather than change in to her sweater from yesterday for the doctor appointment. I end up even giving her a thick sweater of mine; it's still cold out today.

We're sitting in the lobby of the doctor's office now and I can tell Bella's nervous by the way she's grasping my hand.

I'm about to reassure her right when the receptionist looks over at us and calls out, "Isabella Swan?"

I follow her in to the room she leads us to with Bella because I know there's no way my girl's comfortable enough to do this on her own.

The doctor comes in and checks her weight, blood pressure, all of the standard things I suppose. From what I've written on Bella's chart though, he has some knowledge as to why we're here.

Before proceeding any further, he looks straight at me but addresses Bella, as he asks, "Isabella, are you sure you want your boyfriend in here for the next part of the exam?"

Neither of us correct him when he calls me her boyfriend.

Instead, Bella looks at me and says, "Actually, Edward?" She drops her voice to a whisper so the Doctor won't hear us, and he respectfully turns away to give us the illusion of privacy. "I really want you to stay, I won't really feel comfortable alone otherwise but I don't want you to see… my body," she tells me shyly.

And I feel another surge of guilt for the way I treated her so roughly this morning, pulling her shirt up when she's obviously so uncomfortable with that part of herself.

"I won't look, baby… I'll just look down and I'll be here if you need me."

She looks so relieved and honestly, I am too. I do want to know the extent of the damage but I don't know how I'll even be able to function normally, let alone help Bella, if I see all of the harm on her body plainly displayed.

I take a seat in the chair in the corner of the examination room. When my eyes are fixed safely on the ground, the doctor proceeds with the exam. I'm glad the doctor isn't giving me the third degree, like I'd been expecting him to; like I'm the cause for Bella's injuries. Maybe it's the interaction he sees between Bella and me that caused him to refrain. Honestly, I don't give a shit what he thinks about me, but we really don't need that bullshit today.

I hear her hiss in pain a couple times and I nearly lose it and look up; but instead, all I can say is, with as much threat in my voice as I can muster, "Watch it, Doc."

He apologizes and continues his poking and prodding, thankfully this time a little more gently because I don't hear any protests from Bella.

I go back to Bella's side as soon as I hear her sit back on the cot. She leans in to my side like we've been separated for too long.

"Do you ever have dark spots in your vision, Isabella? Any dizziness or lack of energy?" he asks her.

"Yes. On all accounts."

"Fainting? Insomnia?"

Bella continues to respond affirmatively.

Then, the doctor asks a bunch of bullshit questions about how Bella feels about her body, if she finds herself comparing herself to others, if she thinks she can stand to lose a few pounds. It's bullshit though because I've seen Bella eat and there's no way she has an eating disorder.

Once that's finally over with, he says, "Alright Bella, what I can conclude from the examination is that you're very malnourished. Your weight is in a dangerously low percentile right now, as well as your blood pressure, and our main concern will be to get you out of the danger zone. Does that sound good to you?"

She nods emphatically at him.

"We have to start slow though, I don't want you to overdo it just meet a specific number on the scale. I want you to start with twelve hundred calories today, thirteen hundred tomorrow, and so on until you reach a healthy two thousand.

"I'm also going to recommend a good protein shake for breakfast. If you find yourself feeling too nauseous to eat in the mornings, this will be a good substitute."

I really wish I would have known all of this before yesterday. But my ears are wide open now and I'm taking in all of the information that I can.

"The last thing I can really suggest for you is to have a really solid meal schedule. Know when and what you're going to eat and stick to it; you'll be surprised at how resilient your body is. Overall, I don't think the damage will be too extensive, if we work at this. How does a visit back in… 6 weeks sound, Isabella?"

She looks at me before answering, and when I nod encouragingly, she tells the Doctor, "Yes, that sounds good. Thank you so much for your help."

We leave quickly after the Doctor assigns us a time and a date for the next appointment.

For now, I feel satisfied and content with our progress. I know though that Bella's past will be nothing but a blockade for us, preventing us from progressing any further. I would hate to break my promise that I made to her to not push for any details.

But I would hate even more for her past to drive a wedge between us.

And then, my decision is easy. I need to know.

* * *

**A/N:**

**This may be far too personal to reveal on here but I'm a recovering anorexic and I, too, met my boyfriend at my lowest point. I won't go in to the ugly details, but I literally think he saved my life.**

**Also: I swear, you guys, Edward and Bella were totally supposed to spend a fun day in Seattle; instead the fight, make up, and doctor scene got written. Hope you all weren't too disappointed?**

**Also: when I sat down to write this fic, the goal was to provide you a comprehensive look in to Bella's mind through EPOV. I'm realizing now though that some of Bella's actions might seem a little cryptic (what _was_ she doing upstairs for 20 minutes?) so I'm thinking that right after Edward finds out the truth about Bella's past, we'll have a BPOV take on the events thus far. Would you guys be interested in reading that?**

**In the meantime though, I was even considering an outtake from the Doctor's point of view. Does that sound interesting?**


	6. DrGerandyPOV Outtake

**Just because you never know, right?**

* * *

Dr. Gerandy POV Outtake

_Today's going to be a long day_, I think to myself as I look out in to my waiting room.

I notice that Shelly Cope is here again, one of my most frequent patients, and definitely qualified as a hypochondriac.

Looking down at her chart, I see that today, she's in for some "questionable, seemingly harmless back pain; but you never know, right, Doc?" I laugh quietly to myself because as delusional as the woman is, and hypochondriacs_ are_ something to take seriously, she sure as hell does amuse me.

Using the intercom system in the wall, I say, "Gianna? You can send Shelly in now." That's right, Shelly's on a first name basis around here.

I sit back in to my chair in Examination Room 1 and prepare myself for her.

A little breathless for some reason, Shelly stumbles in to the room, giving me a huge grin completely incongruent with coming to the doctor's office, and says, "Dr. Gernady."

"Have a seat, Shelly," I tell her, patting the cot as the cheap paper crinkles under my hands.

She takes her rightful perch, looking far too pleased with herself for some reason.

Now Shelly's not a bad person. I know these perpetual patients are some doctors' worst nightmares. But I find myself not minding; I actually find myself looking forward to her "questionable, seemingly harmless" pains.

"So what can I do you for today, Shelly?"

She blushes as I realize the way my words sounded.

"It's my back, Doctor…" Without any further preamble, she promptly lifts up her shirt to reveal her lower back to me. "I woke up today and I felt the strangest spasms in my back."

"How long did these spams last?"

"Just a couple seconds. I stayed in bed longer than usual so I could wait them out. I wanted to be completely sure."

Her shirt is still raised and being a doctor, I tell myself, I feel the need to touch her back.

Shelly's a little round around the edges and her skin feels soft and fleshy under my fingers. I rub there lightly but remove my hand promptly afterward because there isn't much I can inspect. And I tell myself that I can't just touch her without reason.

She gives a soft sigh at this. Relief? Or disappointment? I'm not sure.

"Well these spasms do sound fairly harmless, Shelly. Still, I wouldn't want you to be worried because you never know, right?"

She nods emphatically and I'm surprising myself with my lightheartedness with her. I hope it's not misplaced.

"I can recommend a hot and cold pad for you? I'm sure you can pick it up anywhere…."

"Thank you so much, Doctor. I wouldn't have known what else to do…"

I shoot her a grin at this because now I'm positive that she's teasing me, too.

Completely indulging her at this point, I pull out a prescription pad and scribble down "hot and cold pad." After a second of hesitation, I also write, "Can be found at any general store."

She's absolutely giddy when I hand her the note. She jumps off the cot to firmly shake my hand, like we've just engaged in some business deal.

And now I'm a little confused with her mixed signals.

That confusion is immediately dispelled though when she releases me to rub her small hand along my arm.

"I'll see you next week, Doctor."

"Um, what?"

She immediately recognizes her mistake. She's supposed to wait _at least_ until she gets home to invent another "questionable, seemingly harmless" problem.

In a bout of intense embarrassment, she rushes out of the room, not even taking the time to tell me goodbye.

And right then, I realize that Shelly isn't plagued by hypochondria after all.

Refusing to lose my nerve for once in my life, I open up her patient file and record her number in my cell phone.

I sincerely hope this isn't a conflict of interest.

After taking a few more patients, I decide that now would be a good time to take my lunch break. Maybe shoot Shelly a text or something.

But Gianna informs me that we've just had a walk-in. A quick look at my schedule tells me that we won't be very busy for the rest of the day so I decide to take the walk-in. I'm just sitting in my office now, trying to kill some time while the person fills in their new patient form.

It usually just lists their identification information, what they're in for, previous doctor, and any medical conditions or allergies I should know about, so I don't prescribe the wrong medication.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm back in Examination Room 1 when Gianna shows my new patient in to the room and thrusts her forms at me.

It says her name is Isabella Swan.

She walks in, eyes on the ground, and I notice that she's a very pretty brunette. She spares me a glance only a second long before jerkily looking behind her to the man following her.

He's older than her. He puts his hand on the small of her back, encouraging her it seems, to have a seat on one of the two, plastic blue chairs in the room. Only when she's seated and as comfortable as she can get on the damn plastic chair does he look up at me.

"Edward Cullen," he says, shaking my hand firmly. "Thanks for taking us on such short notice, Doc."

"Right. It's no problem." I bring the forms closer to me and tell them, "I'll just have a look really quick through this and then we can get on with the examination."

I try to tune out their hushed conversation while I look over what she's in for. As for the weight and height department, she's left them blank; I wonder how long it's been since she's seen a doctor.

While my eyes definitely take notice of her classic, quiet beauty I now also note that she looks fairly unhealthy. She's much too thin, she's hunched over, and while her face is rather beautiful, her cheekbones stick out sharply.

As for the reason for her doctor visit, I notice that that part is written in a different handwriting; I'm presuming her boyfriend, Edward, took over for her here. It says, "General Checkup. She's underweight though, prone to fainting."

"Alright, Isabella. Why don't you step on to the scale and we'll get your measurements down?"

She lets go of her boyfriend's hand and crosses the room. She stands facing away from the scale so I can take her height, five feet four inches. I take her hand to gently turn her around so I can weigh her.

Her boyfriend's watching me like a fucking hawk though from across the room and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me very uncomfortable.

I don't want to make her insecure so rather than announce the number, I briefly just show it to her: 89 lbs. She looks at me blankly; I doubt she knows the extent of damage she's doing to her body.

He wasn't lying; she really is in the danger zone. Swiftly moving along with my examination, I check her blood pressure. It's too low.

All of the signs are pointing towards anorexia nervosa and I'm thinking it's such a damn shame.

She crosses back over to other side of the room to sit next to Edward again.

"When was your last menstrual cycle, Isabella?"

"I…"

"You can't remember?" I conclude. She nods her head

I'm already thinking of rehabilitation and several specialists I can recommend for this girl. But first I'm going to have to ask her some intrusive questions and I don't know if her boyfriend needs to be here for that part. In fact, I think it would make the both of us more comfortable if he left.

So I give her the option: "Isabella, are you sure you want your boyfriend in here for the next part of the exam?" I look him straight in the eyes while I ask her. And I know there's no way in hell he's leaving.

Even the girl is clutching his hand tightly now, like the thought of him leaving her alone with me, a doctor, is unthinkable.

But surprising me, she says, "Actually, Edward?" She starts out in a hushed tone though and suddenly, I feel like I'm intruding on a private moment. He turns his body towards her and lowers his head so she can talk directly in to his ear.

I can still hear them obviously, the room is pretty small, but I look away anyway. She tells him that she doesn't want him to see her body, but surely he's seen at least that part of her before, hasn't he?

Upon my prompting, Isabella comes to sit on the cot. I push my questions to the back of my mind and when Edward is no longer looking in her direction, but still has his hand outstretched to her even though she can't reach it, I proceed with the exam.

She removes her thick sweater and baggy shirt soundlessly and turns around so I can check her back for scoliosis. But what I see there makes me stop in my tracks.

I don't want to make the poor girl more uncomfortable than she already is though, so I proceed with checking the alignment of her spine _while_ I also take note of the large bruises covering her back.

Immediately, my thoughts turn to her boyfriend, Edward. I'm trying to be professional right now but if all of this was caused by him then…. Then I need to do something obviously.

I get a little lost in my thoughts though, distracted from my task at hand, and accidently push on a patch of skin too roughly. Immediately, my thoughts turn to Shelly from earlier this morning; the contrast between her round fleshiness and Isabella's sharp boniness is staggering. She hisses in protest of the contact.

Edward immediately reacts, his eyes flashing up to mine before he realizes he's not supposed to be looking up. His hand starts twitching a little though, like he's itching to bring her back to him and he all but spits at me, "Watch it, Doc."

I apologize profusely to the both of them and that's when I realize that no, her boyfriend can't be the cause for the marks on her body. It would make no sense… right?

I also check her breathing, pressing my stethoscope first to her back, and then her chest, taking the time to be much gentler this time.

When she has her shirt back on, she sits back on the cot. Edward looks up to see her sitting there, wearing a kind of confused look—probably as to why she didn't choose to sit back next to him. It almost makes me smug for some reason, her distance from him.

He doesn't give himself the opportunity to dwell though; he immediately joins her on the cot, wrapping an arm around her slight frame while she leans in to him. He really shouldn't be sitting there.

"Do you ever have dark spots in your vision, Isabella? Any dizziness or lack of energy?"

"Yes. On all accounts."

"Fainting? Insomnia?"

"The fainting has only started recently but yes, I've always had trouble sleeping," she says.

"Would you contribute either of those things to your eating habits?"

She looks very hesitant to say, looking at her boyfriend first, and I find myself wondering _again_ why he's even here. I know she could be more candid with me if she didn't have him to think about first.

He looks at her so tenderly though. He strokes the skin on her wrist and it's like I'm not even in the room anymore. What surprises me more than that though is the perplexity, the confusion I see on his face. Has he not connected the dots yet? How can he not know his girlfriend is starving herself?

"Um, yes, that's probably why," Isabella says, interrupting my, and probably his, thoughts.

"Tell me what you think about your body, Isabella. Just what you think about it in general, and what you would change," I say, trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible.

Edward scoffs at this, acting like I'm completely ridiculous for asking the question. I'm surprised he hasn't rolled his eyes yet.

"I think that—No, I _know_ that I need to gain weight." Her answer only surprises me a little bit; I know she could just be telling me what I want to hear.

"Despite what you _know_ though, do you ever find yourself wanting to lose more weight?" I press.

"No."

And just because I'm not prepared to give up yet, I say, "Do you compare yourself to other girls, wishing you looked more like them or something?"

And cue the eye roll from Edward Cullen.

Isabella starts to answer, "Well, of course I—" He cuts her off though with a slight shake of his head, like he's informing her that my question is too meritless to even entertain.

This guy's really getting under my skin.

"It's not that, Doc. Trust me, she's not anorexic or bulimic or anything like that…" I look in to his eyes and I know that, as a professional, it's not my place to press. It's not even a specialty of mine, eating disorders.

"Well, it's obvious to me, Isabella, that you aren't getting the proper nutrition. Whether that's due to an eating disorder or not, only you know."

Both she and her boyfriend have taken a defensive stance against me at this point; their heads are titled towards each other and he's whispering something softly in her ear right now.

_Is she smiling?_ Is something funny about this situation? Perhaps they're laughing at my misperception of her as an anorexic?

I resign myself to merely giving her the best medical advice I can.

In an authoritative voice, I say, "Well what I can conclude from the examination is that you're very malnourished. Your weight is in a dangerously low percentile right now, as well as your blood pressure, and our main concern will be to get you out of the danger zone. Does that sound good to you?"

Her attention is thankfully back on me.

When I start to give her instructions, tips, foods to avoid, foods to eat heartily, and her general calorie goals for the day, her boyfriend even whips out his phone, taking notes it seems. I'm a little impressed.

Reaching for my prescription pad, I write down a good multivitamin for her as well as a recommendation for a protein shake. Edward takes it from me with a grateful look on his face and stuffs it in to his wallet.

As annoying and arrogant as Edward has been, I think I know for sure now that the abuse Isabella suffered was not at his hand.

The two of them are standing in the corner of the office now, looking at each other with an expression that I can't even _comprehend_, as he helps her to pull her sweater back on. He pulls her hair out from the back of her sweater and bends down to press his lips to her cheek. She looks happy, if a little uncomfortable at his attentions.

Still, I can't help but wonder that if they've been together for so long, why he's waited this long to bring her to seek medical attention.

So while he's helping her with her sweater, I can't help myself from stuffing in to her messenger bag a pamphlet for battered women, as well as the number for the hotline for domestic abuse.

Just because you never know, right?

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took me an incredibly long time to write. I don't know what it is; maybe I'm just not as prolific as some of the writers on here?**

**I see some writers say stuff like, "I wrote the entire story in a day. I'll be updating daily." Granted, these are usually Drabble Fics I'm referring to BUT STILL! I think it just has to do with my hate for regurgitated chapters in an alternate POV.**

**I'm going to work on the next chapter ASAP! Review? **


	7. Exposed

**Because it pays to be brave.**

* * *

It is midnight now.

After Bella and I finished up with her doctor appointment, I suggested we head straight for the grocery store. We picked up the foods, protein shake, and the multivitamin the doctor had suggested. I even bought vitamins for myself; I just figured it sounded like a good idea.

I keep in shape, go to the gym a few times a week, but I know that my eating habits could improve. I guess that's just the bachelor lifestyle though.

Now that I'm finished with checking my emails and locking up the house securely, I find myself restless.

I've never been a particularly restless person. I've always been the type to be perfectly content to lounge around on my days off.

The reason for my restlessness though lies asleep in her bed upstairs. I want to go to her. It still feels so strange having another person living with me here after being alone for so long.

It's not an uncomfortable sort of strange, just an unfamiliar sort of strange.

I think back to my decision to unravel the secrets of her past. It'll be far from fair to ambush her with my insecurities and fears and suspicions.

She might _need_ to talk about this though. What if her thoughts are intoxicating her frame of mind? What if her past is just itching and bubbling and hemming and hawing, trying to find its way out, but literally unable to without the proper prompting? A prompting from me.

I want to be the only one privy to those thoughts.

And then she won't have to repeat them, relive them. Hopefully.

Actually, that's probably a very naïve thought to have. Of course she'll relive those memories, remember them. Simply talking won't make her forget.

But I'm absolutely sure now that if I could just get her to open up to me, we won't be having a repeat performance of her trying to leave. And that in itself is reason enough to make me want to push her, encourage her.

I briefly consider whether I should just let her sleep but finally resign myself to the fact that I just can't stay away when I know she's here.

Silently, hopefully not too creepily, I climb the stairs and make my way to the first bedroom on my left.

I stick my head in to the door and the light from the hallway floods her room. Immediately, she lifts her head from the pillow to look for the source of obtrusion.

Surprising me, she bolts up completely after a second's hesitation and presses her back firmly against the headboard. That can't be comfortable with her injuries.

As quickly as I can, I switch the light on in the room to reveal that it's just me. "Bella, it's me. It's only me."

She relaxes her hold on the blanket she's clutching slightly. God, I feel like a fucking moron for waking her up now.

I stare at her face a couple seconds longer, like an idiot, and tilt my head to the side as if to say, "Remember? Remember me, Edward?"

I wish I didn't have to make things so awkward at times.

I cross the room and hesitantly lower myself on to the very corner of her bed. "You okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you."

"No, it's fine. I just thought you were…" My ears perk up. "… Someone else." And that's all she gives me. "I was awake anyway, you just caught me off guard."

"You were awake? Why didn't you come downstairs? We could have talked or something. I would have kept you company…"

I wish she would keep _me_ company, too. And that she was comfortable enough around me to do that. To just sit around and shoot the shit with me if she's too restless to sleep.

"You wanted to talk about something?" she attempts to clarify.

I don't give her a straight response.

Instead, I crawl over to sit beside her, against the headboard.

She lifts up her blanket to cover my legs, too.

Before she can bring her hand back though, I take it between the both of my hands.

I rest our hands on my lap and think of the best way possible to put this.

She interrupts my train of thought though. Taking in a huge, shaky breath, she looks straight at me, defeat and hopelessness in her eyes, and whispers, "You know you can just say it, Edward. I won't blame you."

"Hm?"

I rub my fingers lightly along her hand when she doesn't continue. She averts her eyes from mine. "Bella? What are you talking about?"

Finally, she looks up at me, lower lip trembling and tears welled up in her eyes.

Before I can comfort her or _even ask_ what's wrong, she pulls her hand away from me and firmly bites down on her lower lip before speaking again.

"If you want me to go, I'll understand."

_What?_

I will never understand how her mind works.

"Bella, Bella, Bella…"

She looks up at me and I'm frantically searching my mind for the right words to assuage her doubts; words, again, because her rejection from a couple seconds ago is keeping me from trying to touch her again.

Instead of something sweet, or understanding, or even remotely comforting, what comes out in my haste is, "I'm not asking you to leave!"

"You're not? I though today after the doctor's appointment you would have realized…"

"What, Bella? Realized what?" I don't want to sound so exasperated with her but when she talks in riddles and trails off on her sentences, expecting me to just _know_, when clearly her mind confounds me, I just get frustrated.

"Realized how messed up I am. And what you saw today was only the physical aspect of it."

I consider her words.

I don't want to dismiss her worries; I can tell that she seriously thought I was going to turn her away.

She's telling me that her physical injuries are simply the icing. There is _so_ much more going on here.

I need to know.

For her sake, so that I can help her, and simply because _I need to know_.

Slowly, deliberately, so as not to take her off guard, I shift slightly closer to Bella on the bed. For some reason, this action, the intimacy attached to it, embarrasses the both of us, and for a quick moment, neither of us can meet the other's gaze.

Just to buy myself some more time, I shift around on the pillow some, trying to get comfortable. Bella watches me out of the corner of her eye.

The energy between us right now is fucking electric. Seriously, I feel like I'm buzzing. Our arms are just barely touching, but not quite. If I just moved a little to the right…

I can't seem to get enough of her so I place my palm down flat on her arm. The sting of her rejection from pushing me away a couple minutes ago seems to have worn off.

Thank God I'm a resilient motherfucker.

Silently, I trail my hand up her arm. Bella seems to be getting a little braver as well, because she's half turned towards me. She meets my eyes briefly, a slightly confused look gracing her face, before she turns her attention back to my wandering hand.

She's breathing heavily and her rosebud lips part for her little pink tongue to stick out and moisten them.

For a minute there, all I can think about is how those lips were pressed to my cheek in the car yesterday. I really wish she would do that again.

Eventually, my hand ends up wrapped around her shoulders, under her hair.

As soon as I start to gently rub her shoulder and arm, Bella just seems to deflate in to me.

She releases the blanket that she's had a death grip on, and buries her face in my chest.

I feel, more than hear, her release a huge breath of air.

I realize a little belatedly that I might have frightened her when I was touching her earlier, when she was unaware of my intentions.

As soon as she squirms a little bit against me though, attempting to get more comfortable, I can tell that this is it.

She's about to tell me what's happened to her.

Everything will be out in the open.

No more secrets.

No more fear.

Hopefully no more looking over her shoulder for Bella.

But I find myself hoping that Bella would just… delay telling me.

I'm not sure how I'll be able to cope with the new information.

Just _seeing_ the marks on Bella's body is enough to make me crazy.

Eventually though, Bella's voice interrupts my thoughts. My thoughts that seems to be going nowhere, accomplishing nothing.

"Can I talk to you?" she whispers in to my chest.

"Of course you can, baby. Anything you need to say…"

Using her hands to push away from my chest a little, she stares up at my face. She's probably measuring the expression on my face right now. Perhaps she doubts my sincerity.

Regardless, whatever she finds on my face seems to placate her, because she snuggles back in to my arms before speaking again.

"I live with my Mom and her boyfriend, Phil."

"Lived," I correct.

"What?"

"You _lived_ with your Mom and her boyfriend, Phil."

"That's right; I live with you now," Bella says, sounding like she's trying the words on for size.

"I… live… with you, Edward Cullen."

I wait to see if she has anything else to add to this profound statement.

.

.

.

"Edward, we live together."

I can't help but laugh at her. She's just _so absurd_.

"You must be crazy," she informs me, tilting her head up to show me the smirk on her face.

I simply shrug.

She must be right.

I mean…. We live together!

After the novelty of this seems to wear off, for the time being, I sit back and wait for her to continue.

"Anyway, I suppose I'll just give you the short version of events."

I'd really like to gauge her expressions while she talks, but I get the feeling that Bella's more comfortable talking straight in to my chest, so I leave her just as she is.

I rest my chin on the top of her head.

"I used to live with my Dad, Charlie, but I had to move when he passed away. I was seven years old."

"How?" I find myself asking. I don't know why the way that her Dad died is so important, but I'm perceptive enough to recognize that her living with her Mom, rather than her Dad, drastically impacted Bella's life. "How did he die?"

"In the line of duty, I suppose. He was a police officer. He was shot while he was working one night…. I was never really told the exact details of it." Her voice starts to break and waver a little at the end, so I grab her gently by the forearms to try to pull her away from my chest.

I just want to see her face to make sure she's okay.

To make sure that she's not crying.

Bella's not having any of that though. She holds on tightly to my shirt sleeves and I take the hint. She doesn't want to look at me yet.

Trying to make myself useful in some way, I resort to rubbing circles on her back lightly. I'm still extremely hesitant to touch her covered up skin because of the injuries that I can't see.

This seems to be okay though.

I rub from her shoulders all the way down to the small of her back. Over and over. Intermittently, I'll stroke her hair, too, trying to coax her in to continuing.

"The bruises though, Bella…. Where did those come from? There are so many."

She doesn't respond.

She's frozen.

"Are they… from an ex-boyfriend?"

This seems like the most logical answer to me, but I still can't imagine anyone hurting someone like Bella so brutally.

"No, not a boyfriend. I promised you that I didn't have… I've never even…" She trails off again in that incredibly frustrating way that she does, but I more or less get the picture.

They're not from an ex-boyfriend.

Suddenly, the pieces lock in to place.

"Phil? Your Mom's boyfriend does this to you?"

I need to hear the words from Bella's lips and while she doesn't deny this guess of mine, she seems rather intent on not giving me what I want.

Suddenly, I can't take it.

I've had enough, and we've messed around for too long.

I'm not avoiding this any longer, and I won't let her, either.

"Bella."

I pull her away from me, although she definitely wanted to stay in that position, and sit down cross-legged in front of her.

"Bella, he didn't ever... He never tried to-"

She looks at me, horrified, and says, "No! Never anything like that."

And thank God that's the extent of that conversation.

"But he did hit you, didn't he? Phil _hit _you."

Phil, images of what Phil might look like, begin to flood my mind.

Suddenly, _Phil _becomes the ugliest sound in my world.

I'm crazy. I'm shaking. I'm rubbing Bella's shoulders like crazy.

She shakes, too.

I tell myself over and over… _She's right here._

"Edward!"

I hear her saying my name and I force my eyes to meet hers, just so that I can acknowledge her concern.

I'm silent for a few moments. I'm fucking assimilating.

I'm confident that I've only been given one piece of the puzzle.

What the fuck am I missing here?

"But why, Bella? _Why? _Since you were seven fucking years old?"

"No… Um. No."

"Bella," I chastise her. Releasing a breath, and facing her completely now, I take her face in my hands. "Are you done talking about this for now?"

It takes her a moment to answer.

"I'm… Yeah, I'm done," she says, her voice trailing off in to a whisper. "It hasn't been going on since I was seven though, I promise. They're alcoholics, they both are. It's gotten worse and obviously, I've reaped the benefits.

I mean… Just look at me, Edward! I'm hideous."

I sincerely try to cut her off right here because I really can't handle her talking about herself like this.

But she keeps going.

"No, don't give me that bullshit, Edward. I _saw_ the look on your face when you saw my body today."

And just when I thought the decision to lift her shirt up couldn't get any stupider…

I inch closer to her and take her face in my hands again.

"Bella, you are beautiful. What they did to you? That was fucking brutal, baby, but there is _nothing_ wrong with you."

I know that saying the words forcefully enough won't convince Bella of their truth, but I'm trying.

I can also see though that Bella doesn't believe me. Bella doesn't believe me with a fierce conviction.

She can't even meet my eyes right now. They're trained on the collar of my shirt, while her hands play with each other.

I let it go.

.

.

.

But then I get really fucking brave. Then I decide that I'd like to try something.

I inch my face closer to hers so that I can brush my lips across her cheek.

I pull back for a moment just to gauge her reaction and while her breathing's heavy, it doesn't seem like I've pushed any boundaries.

I tilt my head to the side, and right before I close my eyes, I see her lips purse sweetly in anticipation.

I touch my lips to hers hesitantly, still giving her the space to back away. When I realize she's not going anywhere, I part my lips slightly to take her bottom lip in to my mouth.

Her kisses are hesitant and definitely inexperienced and in the back of my mind, I acknowledge that I'm probably giving Bella her first kiss. But her kisses are sweet, so so sweet, and I love them.

She's shy—she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. Her hands don't touch me. Her lips let mine do the moving.

Eventually though, her lips begin to respond to mine, although her hands remain at her sides.

I pull away for a second just to bring her arms around my waist.

I kiss her softly twice more before we're done for the night.

Wordlessly, we shift down on the bed to get comfortable.

I realize that I left the hallway light on though. While I get up swiftly, to turn it off, I notice Bella pulling the covers over herself.

I quietly climb in behind her and bring an arm over her shoulder. Right in her ear, I whisper, "Is this okay?"

She nods soundlessly before I press a kiss to the back of her neck.

While she dozes off that night, all comfortable and warm and safe in my arms, my mind runs a million miles a minute.

I wonder if her mom and fucking _Phil_ are looking for her.

Is that why she's been so paranoid?

Is that why she thought just going back home and subjecting herself to more abuse would be the better alternative to being found?

My thoughts continue to run in circles, before eventually, I give out to my exhaustion.

I tighten my arms around her and know that for now, we're okay.

* * *

**A/N: I am so, so, so, so sorry for the wait. This story is not abandoned; we have a way's to go.**

**I'd actually just suggest reading the story from the top, because this chapter might not make sense without the context.**

**I love the reviews—there's no better motivation.**


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